The Devil And The Soulless
by WhatxStillxRemains
Summary: Hermione/Voldemort, Drabble one-shot about events that never happened. Slight swearing.


A quick one shot; Re-written a year or so later. Why is this a M? because it's not a T either.

Non Beta'ed – Ramblings from my sleepless mind.

'Never trust someone who is going to live forever, they don't have enough to lose' Hermione remembered these words as she sat on the edge of the bathtub, rubbing her breasts ferociously with soap as if they had not been cleaned for weeks, She had red marks both old and new, where she had rubbed her skin so raw.

Soap was one of the only privileges that she could still call her own. They allowed a 'Filthy Mudblood' to be clean, how ironic.

She believed this sentence to be true about her lover of sorts. She did not trust him, however she had slowly felt herself warming to him over the years. He was a bastard by no other name, but still, she was lucky, he had always told her that. Without him she would have been dead, so in her own way she was grateful. Even, this, whatever perverse thing, this was, was better than not to exist. She didn't want to be one of those, countless faceless ones, that no longer were, Reduced to ash of just cast aside, like the filth they were told they were.

When she was 14, the unthinkable happened, the feared double agent Potions master, Severus Snap. Had failed in protecting the Alter of the Sacred Moon, from Lord Voldemort, and now he had been freed and was living as an immortal. The whole world had fallen to the darkness, and she had been imprisoned, like a wild animal.

Living in a cage for several years had refused to break the young woman's spirit, even with the curses that were thrown at her, the beatings, torture and rape , In one particular torture session the death eaters had rounded up muggle items, and slowly sawed away at her skin with cheese graters and various blunt kitchen knives, that seemed to go on forever, then they left her in a pile of her own blood.

She had started to lose her mind as she found herself slipping into the darkness every single time they came and sought her out. Only to wake up and see him, Tom Riddle, Reborn as a 19 year old boy, sadly this reincarnation was in image alone, he was still the evil fascist he had been as a monster.

Yet she found herself falling for him, listening to every word that came from those cold lips, He was captivating, between his snarling threats and cutting vocabulary there was pure intelligence. Every hateful, twisted sentence, she began to feel herself in him, The angst, the denial, and most of all pity, she pitied him, the man that caged her. She began to seek him out and to try to catch his eye as he swished straight past her.

When there were no other muggle-borns left, she was called to the pit. It was a long gaping hole, which was so deep; you would be forgiven for thinking that hell itself was through that very floor. She stood there, and offered her body and soul to him if he let her survive. She chose her plea carefully, She did not wish to live anymore, merely survive, that was all she could dream of. He took her up on her offer, her body he could have had at any time, if it had not seemed to physically repulse him, spending time with someone who he saw as unclean. But her soul, this was something new. He had never freely been given a woman's soul before, and this intrigued the dark man.

He never touched her once from that day onwards, but no other death eater did either. He merely just watched every move she made, allowing her to sleep on the floor by his feet as if she was some kind of pet. However you could see the lust in his eyes, a willing woman, whose touch should repulse him. So instead he just watched her, and whipped her, and just hurt her. There were other ways to break someone's soul and fulfil your needs, without mere touch. Touch was overrated for a death eater.

But still she felt a bond deeper than what she had ever felt before, it was a bond between master and pet, Between the devil and the soulless, it felt right for her, righter than anything in a long-time.

Did she trust him, no, But it didn't matter. With him, she would die, without him she was dead already.

She smiled a broken smile.

Finis.


End file.
